The Briefcase
by Some Guy567
Summary: Because some mysteries are better left unsolved.


The Briefcase

Authors Note: A portion of the below dialog, as well as the inspiration for the story itself, is taken from a scene from a movie I am very fond of_. _Cookies to anyone who figures it out before the end.

This story is a resultof a friend of mine wondering what was in G-Man's briefcase. Also, I found refering to him as "G-Man" a bit of a strange thing for his subordinates to do, so I turned it into his name. Forgive me.

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Dr Irons hated the subway. In fact, he hated public transport in general. But he _especially _hated the subway. It was hot, noisy and cramped. The people were obnoxious and short-tempered. And the smells…he'd rather not think about the smells. But today was different. Today was _special_.

Today, the subway had transcended being merely annoying and uncomfortable. On this day, the subway had outdone itself, and become unbearable.

Dr. Irons glanced sideways at his boss, Mr. Mann. The man was dressed in an impeccable business suit, and wearing a creepy, knowing smile. The infamous smile that was always on his face, no matter what.

Irons was astounded by his bad fortune. The mysterious executive was _never _seen to use public transport. In fact, he always seemed to appear out of thin air.

So far, however, Mr. Mann had shown no indication that he wished to talk to him, let alone acknowledge his presence. This was just fine, as far as Irons was concerned. If there was one thing creepier than Mann's smile, he decided, it was hearing him talk.

It was at this moment that Mr. Mann abruptly began speaking.

"Ssso, Dr. Ironsss. How iss your family?" he hissed, without even turning to face Irons.

"Err… they're fine, sir" he replied, awkwardly. Why, oh why, did Mann constantly have to roll his s's?

"Good. That iss good to know" Mann said, staring directly ahead the entire time.

If Mr Gregory Mann was not living, bonafide proof that extraterrestrial life existed, then Pi was exactly 3.

"You look like a sympathetic dude."

Dr. Irons looked up sharply. A trio of youths stood before them, dressed in street clothes that were ragged by design, wearing evil, shark-like smiles. The one in the centre, apparently the leader, had spoken. A switchblade could be seen tucked into his belt.

The leader continued, directing his comments at Mr. Mann, the more well-dressed of the two. "My friend here needs an operation" he said, indicating the heavy-set (and perfectly healthy looking) thug on his right. "But we're a little short on cash, if you know what I mean?"

Irons blood ran cold. He glanced at the other characters on the carriage, who were all making positively heroic attempts to ignore what was going on right beside them.

"So" The leader's words sounded muted and far-off, drowned out by Irons rising terror. "What's in the briefcase?"

Mr. Mann looked the leader square in the eye and replied calmly: "Oh, the ussual. Sssome important documentss. My lunch. A quantum ssingularity."

The carriage fell into a stunned, and slightly confused, silence. '_I've been working for a lunatic'_ Irons thought absently.

"A what?" the thug on the right grunted.

"Ah, in layman'ss termss, a black hole" Mr. Mann's infamous smile never left his face.

"Is it valuable?" squeaked the mousy boy to the leader's left.

"Valuable? Well, I ssupposse to the … right, ah, bidder, yess it iss."

"Show us then." The leader demanded, his hand moving towards his switchblade.

Dr. Irons saw a glint enter Mr. Mann's eyes. He'd seen that glint before, when Dr. Hutchinson had been caught 'redirecting' some of the companies profits.

Mann turned the briefcase so the opening was facing the youths, undid the clasps, and lifted the cover.

* * *

Dr. Irons opened his eyes, and the world swam into focus. His thoughts were slow to form, and his body felt strangely heavy. He found he couldn't remember the past few minutes, or why he had fallen unconscious.

_Surely there wasn't really…_

His attention was drawn by a snapping noise to his right.

Mr. Mann finished closing his briefcase, stood up, and levelled his still-glinting eyes and infamous smile at the other occupants of the carriage, who were still recovering from… whatever had just happened.

"Thisss" he intoned "appearss to be my ssstop." Without another word, he strode purposefully out the open carriage doors, past two cops and a bemused Predator.

Dr. Irons stared down at the scorched space on the floor that had previously been occupied by the youths.

They never did find out what happened to Hutchinson.

* * *


End file.
